Untitled
by SWhite42
Summary: Clint and Natasha's origin story told from Clint's perspective. Will be rated M eventually.
1. Chapter 1

Hey everybody! This is my very first fanfiction, so I really hope it doesn't suck completely. I suck royally at title, so feel free to comment if you think of one that's fitting. Reviews and comments more than welcome. I hope you enjoy! Will probably be rated M, eventually.

Told from Clint's POV

I felt my breath leave me in a sharp huff as I was slammed into the mat below me. I fought to regain my breath when the heel of a hand pressed firmly into my diaphragm, preventing me from a full intake of air. I struggled to breathe and take control of the situation when the world started to spin. I closed my eyes and saw lights pop behind my eyelids. I knew I was beaten, and I knew there was only one way out of it. I moved my arm, as much of it as I could anyways, and slapped my palm against the training mat. Suddenly, the pressure on my chest was gone and gasped to take in as much air as I could with my restored freedom. I lay still on the mat, regaining my breath, before I even dared to open my eyes. As my heart rate and breathing returned to normal, so did the rest of my senses. I became aware of a firm, controlling pressure on my hips and a light brush of hair against my forearm. I eventually mustered the courage to open my eyes again and found myself face to face with the deadliest person I have ever met. I was staring up into the striking green eyes of my partner, Natasha. She was smiling, of course, because she had just bested one of the top agents at SHIELD. The amazing most amazing thing about it all though, was that her smile was genuine. I'd seen her smile before, but this was different. Before, I'd only seen her smile as part of a con, and the smile never quite reached her eyes. As I gazed up at her, I found myself smiling too. She was straddling my hips using her lower body strength to render my limbs useless, she hovered above me, her hands on either side on my head, and her long red hair hung down like a curtain around us shutting out the light from above. Her face was practically glowing from the exercise, a thin sheen of sweat coated her entire body, and her breath came in long, heaving pants, her chest rising and falling dramatically with each breath. God, she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I was vaguely aware of the crowd that had gathered around the sparring ring and began murmuring in disbelief as I was pinned down. It was the first time I had ever been beaten in the ring, and it came at the hands of a tiny 19 year-old Russian girl.

Natasha Romanoff had only been in the shield building for a few hours when I invited her to spar. She seemed tense, and sparring seemed like a decent way to distract her (and, quite frankly, me also) from thinking too much about what Fury's judgment would be. I thought back to the moment I was first assigned to kill her and everything that had led up to this moment…

I was in the shooting range testing some new arrows development had come up with when Agent Hill walked in.

"Barton, Fury wants to see you in his office. Now."

I nodded, finishing off the remaining targets before putting my bow away and walking to Fury's office. The air was thick when I walked in.

"Sit down, Barton." Fury commanded once the door was closed. I took a seat in nearest chair. "I have an important assignment for you. A very important one. There's a woman, an assassin, gone freelance. She's extremely skilled, and extremely dangerous. Every agent we've sent to terminate her had been sent back in a body bag. She's a wildcard, and I want her dead." He threw a manila folder marked 'Classified' on the desk in front of him. I opened in up and was shocked with what I found. I quirked an eyebrow in Fury's direction, not quite questioning his judgment, but still expressing my doubts.

"You want me to kill a girl? Emphasis on 'girl'. She's a just a kid Fury"

"Keep reading, Barton" he instructed, and I did. Natasha, better known as The Black Widow, had a rap sheet longer than I did, and from the looks of it, she was just getting started. As much as I hated to admit it, Fury was right. I had to kill her.

Now, I never quite enjoyed killing people. I did it out of necessity. And I never, ever killed someone who I didn't whole-heartedly believe deserved it. And, when I first saw her file, I believed she deserved to die. Of course, that all changed, but that was my current state of mind. I gathered my equipment and was on a plane to Dublin, where she was last spotted, within the hour. I spent the next year tracking the elusive Black Widow. 1 year, 3 months, and 6 days, to be exact. She was smart, and quick. A real spider. I finally caught her in Paris. I had her cornered, just where I wanted her. After about a half an hour of grueling hand to hand combat, I had her completely disarmed, and at my mercy. I raised my bow and aimed in right at her heart and pulled the string taunt. I was completely prepared to release my arrow, to kill her, when I looked into her eyes. I still couldn't tell you what I saw in those emerald eyes that day, but I can tell you that it made me question everything I ever thought about her. In that moment I made a decision, the best decision I've ever made, I lowered my bow. Natasha didn't relax, if anything, she tensed even more as I lowered my weapon.

"I'll make you a deal, Natasha." She seemed confused by my words, and a little shocked that I knew her name.

"There's no doubt that you are incredibly skilled. One of the best I've ever seen, if I'm honest. The people I work for could use a girl like you. If you agree to come work for us, I'll let you live. If not, I'll shoot you where you stand." I shrugged, acting like I didn't care what she chose, but I wanted nothing more than for her to accept my offer. I looked at this girl, who was nothing more than a girl, wondering what happened to her to make her this way. Wondering who had done this to her. She should be in school, going out with her friends, dating, fighting with her parents. Normal things, like that. She shouldn't be here on a grimy rooftop in Paris, with a SHIELD hit on her.

"Why?" Her voice was harsh, cold, and demanding.

"Because I think you could be useful." I couldn't tell her the real reason. Someone like her, would only perceive it as weakness.

"That doesn't answer my question." She practically spat the words at him.

"Is that a no?" I asked, training my bow on her once again.

"Seeing as I don't have any other options, I guess I have to accept" She told me, defiance ringing in her voice.

"Good. I'll take you back to base where you'll be put in front of the director. He'll decide what to do with you from then on. I'm Agent Barton, by the way." I stated as I handcuffed her hands in front of her.

"I know." She said matter-of-factly with a sly smile on her face.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Clint." It took all I had to keep my surprise from showing. I led her off the roof after I handcuffed her, keeping a trained eye on her at all times, not quite sure if she's bolt or not. However, she remained true to her word and kept along with me wordlessly walking in front. I called HQ, not fully revealing that I hadn't killed my mark, and we were on a plane in an hour. She only spoke after we were already in the air.

"So, who do you work for exactly? I think I deserve to know whose bitch I'm becoming." She asked casually, only a slight hint of bitterness in her voice.

"First of all, you won't be anybody's bitch. I'll make sure of that. You'll be an employee, with a paycheck, and benefits and everything. I work for an organization called the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, more commonly known as SHIELD." I replied simply.

"What will you tell them? Obviously they were expecting a different outcome from our confrontation." It was a fair question, and one I hadn't really thought about.

"I'll tell them I think you'd be more useful to us alive than dead. It'd be a shame to waste talent like yours. You have a very specialized and unique skill set that our current personnel lacks. We need a girl like you. Now it's time for a question of my own: how does a girl so young get to be so good?"

"I'm Russian." She stated bluntly "Killing, in a sense, is like ballet. If you are going to be the best, you must start young."

"How young were you?"

"Young enough." Finality on the subject rang in her tone. We didn't speak until we landed in HQ and hour later. I lead her up to main control room, still not having told anyone what I'd done. The room fell silent as I marched Natasha forward, they all stopped and stared. Fury stormed out of his office the minute he figured out what the situation was.

"BARTON!" I winced as he roared my name, Natasha only smirked beside me. "IN MY OFFICE! NOW!" I did as instructed. Coulson was charged with handling Natasha. I could see her stifle her reflex to attack as his hand rested on her shoulder.

"Follow me, Ms. Romanoff." Coulson commanded. Surprisingly, she did as she was told. Coulson lead her to the small waiting room next to Fury's office. It's a relatively small room, only big enough to hold a couch and a chair. I walked behind them to Fury's office. I saw Coulson go to unlock Natasha's cuffs when she pulled her hands apart, clearly having already picked the locks herself, and ran a pale hand through her dark hair. I smirked as she walked into the waiting room with her head held high. Coulson looked completely shocked.

"What are you smirking at, Barton? Do you realize how much trouble you are in?" Fury barked from his desk. It dawned on me then the amount of trouble I was in. I could face criminal charges. I could lose my job. But, despite all that, I felt she was worth all this drama.

I was dismissed from Fury's office about an hour later. We talked (well, he mostly yelled) and he told me to get some rest while he decided how to best handle the situation. He also told to watch Natasha. I went to go join her in the waiting room. However, the minute I opened the door I found my face pressed hard against the wall and my right arm twisted behind my back.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Romanoff! It's me, Barton!" I heard a sharp exhale behind me and my limbs were released a moment later.

"What did your boss say?" She was straight down to business, no small talk, no nothing. She only wanted answers. She sat down on the couch, crossing both her arms and legs, and fixed her face into a contemplative scowl.

"He said he'll make a decision in a little while, but that he wants some time to confer with a few other agents before making anything official. I'm guessing it'll be about an hour." I continued my explanation and she seemed to relax, but only minutely. She didn't say anything more. I grew uncomfortable as the silence stretched on. A large part of my brain told me I should just leave her and go find Bobbi, she must've heard about what happened by know and want an explanation from me, but part of my head kept me from leaving Natasha.

"Want to spar?" I asked, very abruptly, before I even knew what I was saying.

'What?" She responded in disbelief.

"Well," I continued. "I thought it could take our minds off things while we wait and relax a little."

She sat quietly for a moment, contemplating every possible outcome of every possible decision she could make.

"Fine." She replied without any emotion. I turned around, my back facing her, as a gesture of trust and silently walked out. She followed wordlessly behind me as I worked my way through countless hallways and corridors to the hand-to-hand combat training room. There was already a group of agents working out when we walked in and everybody who wasn't in the sparring ring fell still and silent when I walked in with the famed Black Widow trailing behind me.

"Mind if we go for a round?" I asked the two agents in the ring as I stepped in, ducking under the ropes. The stopped and alternatingly stared at me and then Natasha before nodding quickly and stepping out. I turned back around and saw Natasha wrapping her knuckles, preparing for the fight. I walked over and she handed the tape to me, our hands gently brushing as I took it from her hand. That was the first physical contact we made outside of my handcuffing her or fighting her. I noticed she had removed the outermost layer of her tactical suit and was wearing nothing but a simple sports bra and a pair of spandex. Her long, ruby hair was tied back into a ponytail. He face was a pulled into a calm and composed mask. She walked to the ring as I finished taping my hands, and I soon followed. I stood across from her and stood in a fighting stance, mimicking her guarded posture. I heard the bell ring from the corner, and the fight began.

The next 45 minutes passed in a blur of fists and feet as we danced around each other in the ring. I was continuously shocked that something so small could hit so hard. Eventually she got me pinned to the mat, a very first for anybody at SHIELD. And that's where this story began really. With me looking up at Natasha, a fiercely beautiful and dangerous girl, realizing that saving her life was the best decision I ever made. And that's also the precise moment that my marriage began falling apart. You know that girl Bobbi I mentioned earlier? Well, she's my wife. And she just happened to choose the worst possible moment to go to the training room that day.


	2. Chapter 2

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!" I heard a familiar voice rise over the shocked murmurs of the audience. Natasha sat up, still straddling my hips, and trained a stone-cold gaze on Bobbi. She tensed up immediately, her quads flexing and fists tightening again. Bobbi climbed into the ring as I gently placed a hand on Natasha's thigh, careful not to startle her.

"It's okay Natasha, it's just my wife, Bobbi." I explained. She relaxed, and turned back to face me.

"Your wife?" She asked amusedly, and sleek eyebrow quirking in my direction. "Never would've guessed a man of your profession would go for the married life." She continued as she stood up, releasing me from her grip. Much to my surprise, she offered me her hand once she was up. I took it, and she helped haul me to my feet to face to extremely pissed wife.

"Good luck, Barton." She said with a smirk before turning and exiting the ring one graceful, fluid movement. I watched her go before turning back to Bobbi.

"What the hell was that, Clint?" She demanded, clearly furious.

"Sparring. She pinned me down." I answered, and it was the truth.

"You know what I mean! SHE'S SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD! WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING SPARRING WITH YOU!" She practically shrieked at me.

"I decided not to kill her." I told her simply.

"And why the fuck not?" She demanded.

"Because she's just a kid who clearly did not sign up for the life she was handed. She's also very, very skilled. You saw that she got me pinned, and nobody's ever been able to do that." I replied, casually.

Bobbi clearly did not like the fact that I was just straddled by another woman, and was about to respond when Agent Hill entered the room.

"Barton, Romanoff, Fury requests your presence in his office immediately."

I turned to Bobbi and shrugged before trotting after Natasha, who had already made her way to the door. I would deal with Bobbi later, after she had calmed down and there wasn't an audience watching us fight. I padded silently alongside Natasha as we followed Hill to Fury's office again. When we arrived Natasha was motioned inside his office while I was shuffled off to the waiting room. About half an hour later she returned to the waiting room and Hill instructed me to go into the director's office. Natasha didn't make eye contact as I brushed past her.

"Romanoff will become an employee of SHIELD on a probationary basis, provided she completes basic training." Fury stated as I entered his office.

"Thank you Director. You won't be sorry, I promise. She's going to make a great agent." I gushed, completely relieved.

"I know she will, but it doesn't come without a price, Barton. You disobeyed orders and let a dangerous criminal live. We're making the exception to keep her on board, but The Council feels like punishment is necessary." He explained, and I tensed in my seat.

"What do you mean 'punishment'?" I asked, incredulously.

"I mean, the Council will be trying you, criminally, for insubordination and there will be a pending investigation into your relationship with Ms. Romanoff. They seem to think you may be working with one another. You will be remanded into custody at the end of this meeting to await trial. Additionally, you are forbidden from having any contact whatsoever with Ms. Romanoff during her probationary period. Is that understood Agent Barton?" Director Fury asked pointedly, leaving no room for argument.

"Yes, sir." I nodded curtly.

"Good. Hill will take you to your cell. You will not be allowed visitors. I will explain the situation to your wife."

"Yes, sir." I calmly stated again, as I rode from my seat. Hill returned to the office and cuffed me before leaving the office. Every agent stopped and stared as I was lead to the prisoner cells.

Hill uncuffed me and left me I my cell. She tried to assure me that The Council would never fire me, but it didn't really help ease my nerves much. I appreciated her efforts nonetheless. She informed me that my trial was scheduled to be in exactly one week, and that I would have to stay in the cells until then. She then turned to leave with a small, apologetic smile on her face. I flopped down onto the bed, trying to keep myself from overacting. Hill was right; they wouldn't take my job away after years of dedicated service over something like this. It's not the first time I had ever disobeyed orders, but before, I'd been reprimanded sure, but it was always minor. I'd be doing desk work for a while, or set to work with a junior agent, but I'd never been tried criminally before. I calmed me breathing and turned over onto my side wondering what Natasha was thinking.

I spent most of the next week lost in my own thoughts. I kept asking myself why I really decided to let Natasha live, and more importantly, why I decided to trust her. There was just something about her, something I couldn't quite place, that drew me to her. And the part that shook me the most was that I found that I trusted her. I know her for how long? A day? Less? When I brought her to SHIELD, my work, my home. I risked not only my job, but my life for her after such a short period of time. Yeah, my life. I found out through Hill a few days later that insubordination at SHIELD was punishable by death. Of course, by the time I actually, physically met Natasha, I already knew a lot about her. Little things like that she always slept on her left side, she twirled her hair around her finger constantly (it wasn't even a nervous habit, just a habit. A little personality quirk that she always kept, undercover or not), how she took her coffee (large, dark roast, 2 cream, 3 sugar). Lots of little things about her like that. After more than a year of being her shadow, I should know those things. If I didn't, I deserve to lose my job. Despite all that, there was still a hell of a lot I didn't know about her. I didn't know who she really was. I didn't know where she came from, where she grew up, what created her. I didn't know anything like that, and I there was nothing more I wanted than to learn those things about her. Those thoughts and questions bounced around my head for the whole week I was imprisoned, by the end I was no closer to understanding her than I was when I started.

Eventually Hill broke my solitary sentence to bring me to trial. It was a surprisingly quick affair with the council. I was cleared of the charges brought against me after I had a chance to fully explain myself. However, I was still expected to refrain from having any contact whatsoever with Natasha. I shook the hands of the Council members after the hearing and returned to my rooms, the rooms I shared with Bobbi. If I'm honest, I had completely forgotten about Bobby while I was incarcerated. Natasha had completely consumed both my conscience and unconscious thoughts.

"Clint!" Bobbi exclaimed as she threw her arms around me when I walked through the door. I brought my arms around her waist and held her closer, smiling into her soft, blonde hair. She pulled away moments later, still keeping her arms around my neck.

"How'd everything go at the hearing?" She asked.

"Cleared of all charges." I told her happily, and she crashed her lips against mine and I kissed her back deeply. Though after a minute or so I pulled away from her, and stepped back.

"What's wrong, baby?" She asked.

"Nothing. There's just something I have to take care of." With that I quickly turned on my heels, leaving my very confused wife in my wake. I made my way through the Helicarrier up into the rafters, high above everyone else and began my search for Natasha. I spent the next hour and a half climbing around the ceiling through countless pipes and wires and bars trying to find her. I knew it went against everything Fury had told me, but I had to know how she was doing at SHIELD. I eventually found her in a training room while the instructor was going over the how-to's of basic knife combat. I chuckled slightly at the irony of it all. Natasha was the best close-combat fighter I had ever seen in all my years at SHIELD and they were making her go through basic training? Natasha could probably not only the kick the asses of the entire class of newbie agents, but the instructor's ass as well. She was bored with it, I could tell. She stood with one hand on her hip that jutted slightly to the left, her head was tilted to the left as well, and she was twirling her long hair around the slender fingers on her free hand. Eventually the instructor (whom I realized was a woman I went through basic training with, Samantha Lyons) and all the trainees were given practice knives and paired off. Natasha was paired with another girl who was about the same size she was with equally long, but blonde hair. Natasha had her on the ground with the knife to her throat in three seconds flat.

"Romanoff!" Agent Lyons barked as she walked over to the pair "The goal was to disarm your partner, not try and kill them!" She informed angrily. I saw Natasha tense, fighting back the urge to attack to instructor before she pulled her face into a calm, blank mask.

"She is disarmed." Natasha replied and nodded her head to where her partner's knife lay on the ground, about three feet from her hand. I chuckled at the expression on Lyon's face. It looked about equal parts shock, confusion, and anger.

"Reset" She said stiffly before walking away briskly. Natasha offered her hand to her partner who refused and retrieved her knife before standing up to face Natasha again. That's when I realized something very important: nobody here would ever accept her as a part of SHIELD. She would always be an outcast.

I didn't even think about what people would think of her when I brought her back. She had killed other SHIELD agents, destroyed countless missions, and been a general pain the ass for years. Not to mention the fact that she just waltzed in here after everything she did, was accepted my Fury, and was a better agent than 99.9% of the people who had been working here for years would kind of bring about some resentment. I spent the year watching her during training, and everywhere she excelled beyond compare. Marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat, knife fighting, interrogation tactics, seduction, surveillance, infiltration. In all of them, she took the cake. Which, of course, made the rest of the recruits in basic training hate her. I think they failed to realize that she had been doing what they were just learning for years before coming to shield. The other newbies avoided her, which seemed to suit her fine, and she kept to herself mostly. She never got close to anybody, she never made friends, and she always stayed on the outside away from everybody. She was guarded and cautious and intimidating, people seemed generally afraid of her, with good reason I suppose. Her reputation did truly precede her. And in the rafters I stayed, watching her train, learning everything I could about her, until she completed basic training, until the day I could talk to her again.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry that it's kind of a short chapter, but I really liked where this one ended. I'll try to get my next one up ASAP! Thanks for the reviews and the follow/favs! It means a ton!

Fury had called me to his office early in the morning, and I responded dutifully. It was about six in the morning when I got the call and, honestly, the last thing I wanted to be doing that early in the morning was talking to Fury. But, I went anyways.

"Sit down." Fury ordered the very second I stepped in the room, and I did. "Ms. Romanoff has officially completed basic training as of yesterday and was fully instated as an official SHIELD Agent earlier this morning. As you know, SHIELD protocol states that a new agent may not preform field work independently until he or she has completed 150 hours of field time with a senior agent. You will be that senior agent, Barton."

"What?" I couldn't believe that Fury would ever let us work together. Not in a million years.

"Well, she's successfully terrified every other agent on this damn ship into not working with her. Seeing as you brought her here, I'm making her _your_ responsibility. You are to inform her of this arrangement."

"Yes, sir. But…" I was quickly interrupted by Fury.

"There will be no 'buts' Barton. These are your orders and you will follow them, especially after your little display last year."

"I've been on desk duty for the entire year! Except for when you absolutely needed me on a mission, of course. Don't you think that's punishment enough?"

Truth be told, I actually wanted very much to work with Natasha, and I was overjoyed by the arrangement. But, part of me knew she would bring about a lot of trouble. I spent an hour with her the first day I met her and got screamed at by my wife; it could really only get worse from there.

"You brought her here, you deal with her. Have a good day, Barton." He handed me a file before I got up.

With that I left. Left to go tell Natasha, I guess. Maybe Bobbi too. Though that thought was even more daunting. I made my way to the cafeteria, it was getting to be about breakfast time and it was as good a place as any to start. Apparently, luck was on my side that day and I found her sitting at a table in the back across from Hill. I noticed they had gotten quite close, well as close as Natasha could get to anyone, over the past year. She was facing away from me so, when I touched her shoulder her reflexes immediately kicked in, and mine as well. I narrowly avoided getting a fork in my arm, and the entire cafeteria seemed to just stop and stare at that.

"Agent Barton." Natasha greeted me coldly. "It's been a while."

"That it has, Agent Romanoff." I kept my tone clam and professional. "Congratulations on your new title."

"Thank you." She turned away. "Now is there something you wanted Agent Barton, or did you just decide to disrupt my breakfast for fun?"

I chuckled at that. She really was a tough cookie.

"I did want something, actually." I responded with a small smile.

"Really? Well, whatever you're selling, Barton, I'm not buying." She pushed away from her table and turned to leave, bringing us face to face.

"So if I said I have the details about your first field mission, you wouldn't be interested?" I replied sarcastically. "Okay then. It was nice seeing you Natasha." With that I turned and began walking towards the door.

"Wait!" She called before catching up to me; I turned around to meet her. "What do you know?"

"Why don't we talk in private?" I gestured towards the doors. "After you, Agent Romanoff." She glared at me before straightening her shoulders and pushing past me. I chuckled lightly and followed behind her.

She led me to her rooms, which shocked me. I thought she would lead me to a training room or an interrogation cell, her private rooms was the last place I expected to end up. She reached into a pocket on her tactical uniform and pulled out a key. When she unlocked the door she walked determinedly inside leaving me to follow.

"What the hell do you want, Barton?" She demanded as soon as I swung the door shut.

"Now, Natasha," I moved and took a seat in her desk chair. "is that any way to talk to your new partner?" I smiled at her, knowing it would infuriate her.

"MY WHAT?!" She screeched.

"Your partner. SHIELD protocol dictates you spend time in the field with an agent above you before you're allowed on your own. Fury assigned you to me because you've scared the rest of the agents away."

"So, if I want to work in the field. I'm stuck with _you_?" She hissed. I raised an eyebrow at her.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It is." She fixed a stone-cold glare in my direction. I stood up and walked over to her, barely a foot away.

"And why is that?" I asked, kind of offended. I saved the girl's damn life, she could at least fucking play nice with me.

"I work alone. I don't do partners, I don't need a partner. And, I certainly don't need a damn babysitter!"

"Really Tasha? You expect them to just let you loose on your own when you were previously pretty high up on their 'Most Wanted' list?"

I was suddenly shoved roughly up against the wall.

"Don't. Call. Me. Tasha." She spat at me. I shoved her back equally hard, causing her to stagger back.

"If you want to be in the field, you go with me. That's the deal. Take it or leave it, I don't much care." I told her harshly as I threw the file on her bed before brushing past her and leaving her rooms.

I couldn't believe what just happened. I couldn't fucking believe that girl! After everything I did for her she couldn't even stand to work with me in the damn field! God it was infuriating! I stormed angrily down through the Helicarrier back to my own apartment. Other agents all but hit the freaking deck as I passed them to get out of my way. I figured that Bobbi would still be in our rooms, so I swung by the armory to grab my bow and went directly to the shooting range. Somehow, shooting always calmed me down. The familiar feel of my bow's curves, the slight tick when I pluck the bow-string, the swish of my arrow as it hurtles through the air faster than human eyes can follow, and the sickeningly satisfying sound of my arrow burying itself dead-center in the target all have the ability to just melt away any negative feelings. I've lost count of how many times I've shot away my anxiety, anger, irritation, boredom, worries, and the like. So for the very first time, thought it certainly wasn't the last, I found myself shooting out angry thoughts caused by one Natasha Romanoff.

I shot arrows at various targets for roughly an hour and a half; with each twang of the arrow being released, I felt the tension leave me. I turned to grab a new quiver of arrows when I was very suddenly faced with Natasha. When had she come in here? We stood facing each other, barely a foot apart, staring. Our eyes locked, her shockingly green eyes alight with what seemed to be a mixture of amusement and curiosity, and she gave me a little half-smile.

"Impressive." She commented. "You haven't missed a shot yet."

"I never miss." I informed her coolly. And it was true, in my entire career at SHIELD, I have never missed a shot. Not once. And, it was something I'm quite proud of.

"Little cocky there, aren't we, Barton?"

"And why shouldn't I be, Romanoff? I've earned it." I shrugged, and took the quiver she was holding out to me and slung it over my shoulders.

"How long have you been here anyway?" I asked, turning back to my targets.

"About an hour." She said it so casually, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"May I ask why?"

"Curiosity."

"About?"

"Why you use a bow."

"And?"

"I still don't understand." She admitted quietly. I chuckled, and retrieved another arrow from my quiver.

"It's complicated."

"Care to enlighten me, then?" She asked, somewhat irritated.

"Say 'please' and I might consider it." I teased. I could practically feel her tense up behind me.

"Never mind." She growled coldly before turning on her heel and heading for the door. "I'll see you at 3 for briefing." She tossed nonchalantly over her shoulder before exiting the shooting range. Wait…she was going to come with me? I chewed through that thought as I released my arrow. When I looked up, I found that, for the first time in my life, I had missed my mark. That's when I knew, absolutely, that Natasha was nothing but trouble.


	4. Chapter 4

"Fuck!" I sighed as I yanked the arrow out of where it landed, only two centimeters from the center. I missed the shot. I can't believe I fucking missed! And all because Natasha decided to go on a mission with me? What the hell was wrong with me?

"SON OF A BITCH!" I roared and snapped the arrow in half. I spent nearly two hours trying to calm down and after five minutes of polite conversation with the girl and I was angrier than I was before! How could I work with her? I could barely think straight with her around, and apparently I can barely shoot straight too. I needed a different distraction.

"I knew I'd find you in here." A familiar voice called. I sighed, Bobbi. Don't get me wrong, I love my wife, I really do, but she always picked the very worst times to try and talk to me.

"What's wrong?" She asked as she placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Nothing, just trying to clear my head before a briefing this afternoon." I lied smoothly. It still surprised me that after all these years, Bobbi still never knew when I was lying.

"You've got another mission?"

"Yeah. I leave tomorrow."

"Where to?"

"Dublin, I think. I haven't really finished reading the file yet." I shrugged and slung my bow over my shoulder to rest on my back along with my quiver.

"I've got a partner this time 'round." I continued. Bobbi quirked an eyebrow and motioned for me to sit with her on a nearby bench, I did.

"Really? I thought Fury gave up on sending you out with a partner, you don't exactly work well with others in the field. Who's the lucky agent?"

"I thought he did too. Seems he's found a similar problem in another agent too: Agent Romanoff." Bobbie stood up angrily, her whole body tense, and glared at me.

"What?!" She hissed.

"Yeah," I continued calmly "She's a new agent so she can't be in the field alone, and basically everybody else is afraid of her except Hill and me, and Hill doesn't do field work. That really leaves only me to work with her."

"I don't like it." She responded tersely.

"I'm getting that, but it's not like I have a choice so you're going to have to deal with it." I was getting really irritated with her now. Why was she so angry about all of this?

"What?" She asked disbelievingly. I was generally pretty calm when she was like this, I rarely snapped at her. Today, I just really didn't care about keeping my temper in check.

"Why the hell does my being partnered with Natasha matter to you?"

"Because she's a fucking psychopath who kills people for a living!" She was screaming now. I stood up now too, too worked up to continue sitting.

"I kill people for a living too, Bobbi!"

"But…" She started.

"But, nothing, Bobbi. I'm no different than her. So what if she's got a murky past? She's here now, deal with it."

"Why the hell did you bring her here anyways?

"Not this again, Bobbi." I pleaded. For the past year she'd been trying to get me to explain myself, and I kept avoiding the subject. I didn't even know why I did it, not really. I just sort of did. There was something about her, something in her eyes, that kept me from killing her.

"No. You've been avoiding this for an entire fucking year. Why the hell did you let her live? She's nothing but a cold, manipulative, bitch. She's barely fucking human!"

"That's exactly why I did save her." I said quietly. "Bobbi, she's me. I was on that same road that she was on before I came to here. I would've turned out just like her without SHIELD, but someone here gave me a chance. They saw something worthwhile in me when I didn't. They gave me a chance to turn my life around. If Coulson hadn't brought me here, I would be no better than her. This place, this job, saved me, and she deserves the same. I don't know her story, how she wound up the way she is, but I know that nobody, _nobody_, chooses this life."

Bobbi seemed lost for words. She looked down, and sort of wrung her hands uncomfortably. I stepped forward and wrapped my hands round her waist, pulling into a warm hug.

"Trust that I know what I'm doing, Bobbi. It'll be okay." She pulled away from me again.

"I don't trust her." She stated bluntly.

"You don't have to trust her, I do. She's my partner now; Fury thinks she can be trusted, so I do too."

"She could kill you!"

"She hasn't yet." I shrugged and glanced at the clock on the wall. "I've got to go, Bobbi. Briefing starts in like 5 minutes." Which was a lie, briefing didn't start for about another 40 minutes

I left her there, I feel like I did that often, just left Bobbi somewhere while I went off to do something else. Something more important. I walked silently through the base to the briefing room, thinking about Bobbi. We've been growing apart, for a while now too. It seemed that one of us was always on a mission, and when we were both on base, I just didn't feel like being around anybody. I'm surprised Bobbi put up with me, to be honest. I had my fair share of problems, and it made it hard for me to be close with anybody, including my wife. I couldn't sleep through the night with somebody else next to me, I was restless and moody, I didn't talk about my past, I didn't talk about my missions, I kept everything very close to my chest. It surprised me that Bobbi stuck around with me when I was so damaged, and she wasn't.

When I got to the briefing room ten minutes later, Natasha was already there reading the file. She was sitting cross-legged on the table with the file in her lap, twirling her hair with a cup of coffee next to her.

"So, what made you change your mind?" I asked sitting next to her on the table, our thighs and shoulders brushing lightly. She stiffened slightly, her jaw flexing.

"Relax, partner. I only want a look at the file." I said gently, she rolled her eyes at me and I smiled.

"Well, I figured that if I had to stay here for any extended period of time, I'd probably kill myself." She stated blandly. I laughed at that, genuinely laughed, and she looked at me oddly.

"What's so funny, Barton?" She asked

"Nothing. I know exactly what you mean though, I'm the same way. This place makes me restless." She smiled up at me for a moment, before pulling her face back into a blank mask, like she had caught herself doing something wrong. She abruptly closed the file and all but shoved it into my hands before getting up from the table and swiftly leaving the room, leaving her half-drunk coffee on the table. It would take more than a few hours for her to learn to trust me, I knew that, but how was I supposed to get on with somebody who couldn't even be alone in the same room with me for more than five minutes? I shrugged and opened the file, I would think about my Natasha problem later.

We were heading to Dublin to take out the leader of a diamond smuggling ring, the file said. Seemed easy enough. I poured over the file, going over building layouts of the compounds, map of the surrounding area, planning escape routes, and looking for the best vantage points for me to shoot from until the other agents arrived. Coulson and a few random agents who would be acting as backup arrived together first, Hill came in a little later, Natasha a short while after that. I moved from the table to a chair nearby and Natasha sat on the completely opposite side of the table, looking through another copy of the file, a new cup of coffee in her hand.

"Let's get started then." Coulson stated. "You two, Barton and Romanoff, will head to Dublin. You are charged with the elimination of George MaClaren, the head of a diamond smuggling ring moving stolen goods into the UK. You will…"

"Wrong." Interrupted Natasha.

"What?" Every agent in the room, including myself, responded.

"About MaClaren, I mean." She continued. "He's not a diamond smuggler, he's an arms dealer. And not a very pleasant one at that. Though, they never are. They're all volatile, trigger-happy, morons." She rambled on for a bit while everyone digested what she was saying.

"Your intel sucks." She concluded after the room's silence stretched on for a bit.

"And how would you know all of this?" Coulson asked incredulously.

"I did a hit for them a while back, took out the leader of a competing dealer from London." She responded casually, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

"How much do you know about them?" Hill asked, speaking up for the first time.

"Not much, but more than what your file's got."

"And how much do they know about you? If you've worked for them before, we can't send you in there."

"The hit was brokered by a third party, they never met me."

"What third party?"

"That's not pertinent to this mission." She said flatly.

"I'll be the judge of that Ms. Romanoff. Who was the third party?" Coulson demanded.

"I said it once already, and I won't say it again: it is _not_ important." Her voice was ice cold, loathing practically dripping off each word. He eyes were hard and unforgiving, boring into Coulson, and finality rang quite clearly in her tone. The tension in the room grew thick as Natasha kept her eyes leveled at Coulson.

"So, Ms. Romanoff," Agent Hill broke in again, shattering the tension like glass. "Tell us what you know."

The next hour passed with Natasha relaying her knowledge to us. Arms dealers, really? That made things a lot more complicated. Eventually we worked through all the details of the mission, and were ready to leave. We were given a half hour to pack and board our plane. I went to my rooms, and packed my things while explaining the mission to Bobbi. She walked me to the plane and kissed me before I boarded, when I did, Natasha was already on the plane. She seated herself near the back of the plane, reading the file again. I couldn't make out the title from where I was standing. I stowed my bags overhead and made my way to join her.

"What do you want, Barton?" She spat as I took the seat opposite her.

"Well, I was looking for some friendly conversation. You know, the kind of thing civil people do, but I'll settle for your irritatingly hostile remarks." I replied sarcastically, taking the file from her.

"I was reading that." She hissed.

"I know. Now, I'm reading it." I smiled at her before turning my attention back to the file. I glanced up at Natasha a few minutes later to find her gripping the arm rests hard enough to make her knuckles white, which I didn't even think was possible because she's so pale, and her jaw clenched tight with her eyes closed.

An hour later I broke the tense silence that had settled between us.

"You know, this isn't going to work if you don't trust me. I'll make you a deal, okay?"

"Depends on what you're offering."

"You can ask me any three questions you want, and I'll give my God's honest answer, and in return, I get to ask you three questions and you have to tell me the truth." I offered

"And that's supposed to do what, exactly?"

"Get you to relax a little, I'm not the enemy." She bit the inside of her cheek and chewed thoughtfully for a minute before responding.

"Fine. Where did you work before SHIELD?" She asked, not wasting any time.

"A circus. A few circuses, actually." She raised an eyebrow disbelievingly.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's where I learned how to shoot." She chuckled, and bit her bottom lip, kneading it in her teeth thinking of her next question.

"Alright circus freak, have any family?"

"My parents died when I was 3. My brother, Barney, and I were in an orphanage together for six years until we ran away to join the circus. We don't really talk anymore though." I replied sadly. Thinking of my family always hurt.

"Oh." She said quietly, a little shocked at my answer.

"What's your favorite flavor of ice cream?" She blurted out. Now, it was my turn to be surprised.

"Coffee." I said with a small smile, she was constantly surprising me.

"Your turn." She prompted. Asking Natasha questions would be difficult. I wanted to know more about her past, but at the same time I knew asking her anything too personal would just push her away. Baby steps, I figured.

"What's your favorite type of ethnic food?" I asked, keeping in theme with her last question. Her brow knit together as she thought about it. She deliberated for a few minutes before answering.

"Indian. I love Indian food." I was a little surprised at that.

"Really? I pegged as more of an Asian-food kind of girl."

"I prefer something with a little more kick." She shrugged.

"Why don't you like being called Tasha?" I asked, remembering when she shoved me up a wall for it.

"Because it's not my name."

"Is that it?"

"Is that your third question?" She countered.

"No. I have a better last question."

"Care to share?"

"What's your real name?" I looked directly in her eyes, and they revealed nothing. There was no sign of emotion, they looked dead. She stared directly back at me, unwavering in her steely resolve.

"I don't know." She said icily before quickly getting up and resituating herself as far as she could away from me in the small plane. I knew that would backfire, but it was a start for us.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for all your reviews and follows/favs! It means a hellaton! Sorry if this chapter is kinds short, but I wanted to update this. Well, I wanted to update this more that I wanted to do my homework... I hope you enjoy it!

The rest of the 10 hour plane ride was spent in excruciating silence. I made several more attempts to talk to her, which she quickly rebuffed, and had resorted to tapping a pen incessantly to against the armrest to fill the silence.

When we landed in Dublin, it was close to one in the morning. The silence stretched on as we took a cab to our hotel, she seemed at ease (as much as she could anyways), and I was too. This silence, was comfortable, the tension on the plane seemed to have evaporated when we got off. We got to our hotel about half an hour later and sluggishly carried our bags up to our room. We were staying in a four-star hotel, which surprised me considering SHIELD usually shoved me in skeevy motels or broken down one-room apartments, but there was still one problem.

"One bed." Natasha noted out loud. "You can sleep first, I'm going to shower." She continued hastily, dropping her bags on the floor. She sauntered to the bathroom, grabbing a towel off a shelf, and shut the door lightly. I sighed, kind of relieved, before rummaging through my bags for a pair of sweatpants. I quickly changed out of my jeans and pulled my t-shirt over my head, tossing both lazily back into my bag, and padded over to the bed. I flopped down and turned the tv on, flipping through channels for a good three minutes before settling on an episode of Mythbusters. I sort of half watched, half dozed until Natasha came out of the shower. She emerged 40 minutes later wrapped in a towel that barely went down mid-thigh, her hair was damp and hung down almost to her but (as opposed the usual middle of her back), and her skin glistened from the steam. She didn't even glance at me as she made her was over to her bag and pulled on a simple white tank top and a pair of black shorts. She gracefully fell onto the couch, crossed her legs, and pulled out the case file.

"How many times are you going to read that?" I quipped from the bed.

"Until we know what we're doing." She replied without looking up. "Get some sleep, Clint."

Now that, that was surprising. She had never called me by my first name before, except for the first day we met, and that was only to prove that she knew it. I decided to let it go for now, not making a big deal out of it, and rolled onto my side pulling a blanket over me. I was out within minutes.

I woke up pretty early, the clock read 6:05. I sat up and stretched before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. When I stood up and glanced around the room, I saw Natasha asleep on the couch. She was still cross legged, her right arm was propped up on the arm rest with her head in her hand, and the file was still in her lap. Some pictures had fallen out of the file and were littered on the floor in front of her. I stooped down to pick them up, glancing through them. There was one of MaClaren, a few of various other high-rollers in the smuggling ring, and one of a blonde woman that I didn't recognize. I placed them back on the file in her lap and went to wake her. I had barely touched her shoulder when she bolted to her feet with her hand around my throat. I held both my hands up in surrender, and she relaxed, turning to pick up the contents of the file that had spilled all over the floor. I bent down to help her. We didn't speak, but it wasn't awkward, we just picked up the bits and pieces and shoved them back into the folder, our hands brushing occasionally.

"Want coffee?" I asked when we had finished. "I was thinking about making a run to go grab some." I walked over to my bag to pull on a t-shirt and hoodie, pocketing my wallet in my pant.

"Sure. Two cream, three sugar." She informed me.

"I know." I told her as I walked out the door.

I walked around the city for a while, just breathing in the damp, cool air, before stopping in a local café for coffee. I returned to the hotel about half an hour later, coffee in hand, to find Natasha gone.

"Natasha!" I called nervously. No answer. "NATASHA!" I tried again, louder. Still nothing. "Fuck!" I cursed under my breath as I began rummaging through my things to find my phone. Once I did, I called her. Straight to voicemail.

"Damn it Natasha! Where the hell are you?" I barked into my phone. I spent the next ten minutes pacing angrily in the room. I couldn't leave, in case she came back, and I wouldn't have any idea where to look anyways. She finally appeared at the door, and I let out a sigh of relief.

"Where the hell have you been?" I shouted.

"Calm down, I just needed some air." She said nonchalantly.

"Next time you want to take a stroll, tell me first." I ordered.

"Why?"

"Because your my partner and I'm responsible for you, whether you like it or not."

"Fine, fine. Don't get your panties in a twist." She quipped back sarcastically. I could strangle her.

"This for me?" She asked, gesturing to one of the coffee cups I left on the table.

"Yeah. Hurry up and get dressed though, we should be heading out soon." We needed to get out and start surveillance sooner rather than later.

"Tacticals or civilians today?" She inquired, holding up both her catsuit and a floral skirt from her bag.

"Civilians for today, we'll be on the ground mostly." She nodded and gathered some more things from her stuff before going into the bathroom. She emerged fifteen minutes later wearing a high-waisted white skirt with pink flowers, with a complimentary pink cotton t-shirt tucked in, a yellow belt, and a navy blue cardigan, with closed-toed yellow pumps that were probably five inches tall.

"Pink? Really, Natasha?" I was more than surprised with the color she'd chosen.

"It's innocent. You don't really expect a girl in pink to slit your throat." She replied coolly.

"Fair enough." It actually made a lot of sense.

"So, you're walking in naked?" I wondered, not seeing a lot of places to conceal a weapon on her.

"Not exactly." She lifted her skirt to show both a 9mm handgun and a knife strapped to her thighs, then pulled back her cardigan to reveal another handgun resting in the small of her back.

"Nice." I commented before pulling a belt around my jeans and grabbing my jacket. I'd gotten changed while she was in the bathroom, and was ready to go. She finished getting ready by pinning up the front part of her hair and swiping on some pink lipstick.

"Ready?" I asked, as she went back to her bags to look for something.

"Almost." She replied, taking another knife out of her bag and slipping it into a small white clutch.

"Let's go!" She quipped brightly as she grabbed her coffee and swept out of the room.

We walked side-by-side at a brisk pace, weaving our way through the throngs of people on their way to work. By this time it was about 8 o'clock, so most of the morning rush had thinned out by then, making our job easier. We navigated to the café that was being used as a front for the smuggling. Restaurants are perfect for this type of business, nobody questioned large deliveries at really strange hours and you could move product relatively easily. We arrived and situated ourselves at separate tables to keep eyes on the entire place. Natasha sat out on the patio to watch the deliveries being made, and I sat near the back, to watch who went in and out of the doors to the private offices. The next 10 hours were spent with Natasha endlessly typing away on her laptop, while I opted for pretending to read book. Surveillance was, without a doubt, the most boring, but most essential part of any mission. By the end of our long and boring stint in the café, we were ready to take down MaClaren.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry, it's been a while since my last update. I've been like hella behind in school lately...whoops. Anyways, here's the next update!**

When the café closed we headed back to our hotel. There we came up with a plan to get to MaClaren. There was a building just opposite the café that had a perfect line of fire to MaClaren's office, where I would set up. I would make the shot while Natasha stayed on the ground to take care of the inevitable henchmen to reduce civilian casualties.

"I don't like it." Natasha said tersely after I had finished explaining. "It's messy."

"I know, but we don't really have many options here. MaClaren almost never leaves that building, and when he does, he's surrounded by a human shield."

"Give me one hour, unsupervised, and I think I can come up with something better."

"What are you going to do?" I asked, skeptically.

"Use my 'unique skillset'"

"Can I trust you?" I looked right into her eyes, and kept my tone calm, but deliberate.

"You can if you like." She smirked. "But, where's the fun in that?" She stood up suddenly, slipping back into her shoes. "One hour, that's all I'm asking."

I deliberated for a moment, weighing the possible outcomes of letting her go. She could either a) come up with a really good plan or b) bolt. I couldn't afford to have her run, but I had also seen her in action, and she was damn good at what she did.

"One hour." I said, deciding to let her go. "Not one minute more."

She smiled brightly, grabbed her purse, and exited the room gracefully. I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. This was, by far, the most stressed out I've been in years. Natasha was just something else, and she made my head spin. I wasn't used to not knowing things. I always knew the personal details of everybody I ever worked with, though that wasn't often. The idea of having to trust someone I didn't even know so completely made my heart race. I spent the next hour alternatingly pacing the room and cleaning my weapons. I was more than relieved when Natasha turned up exactly on time, right on the dot.

"Got anything?" I asked impatiently the minute she walked through the door.

"Nothing, sorry. Dead end." She replied flatly.

"So we're back with the original plan?"

"I guess, though I still don't like it."

"I know, neither do I. Just try and get some sleep tonight. You can take the bed tonight; I can't imagine how you slept last night being comfortable."

"I've slept in worse places." She shrugged. "I'm going to shower." She stated before taking her leave.

When she emerged and dressed in her pajamas, she crawled into the bed and settled herself comfortably in the covers. It was actually kind of cute the way she fluffed the blankets and pillows around her, but I'd never tell _her _that. I took a shower after her, taking my time, and made myself comfortable on the couch after. It didn't take long for me to fall asleep.

We spent the majority of the next day in the café again, opting to wait for night to kill MaClaren. She was wearing just a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans, a white cotton shirt, and a leather jacket, with some pretty killer red pumps today. She seriously had a thing for shoes, but that's entirely beside the point. She was still packing, just like she was yesterday, except without the pink and yellow she seemed much more lethal. When the sun finally set, I went back to the hotel to change into my tactical uniform and grab my bow before breaking into the abandoned building across the street and setting up. I slipped my comms into my ear and tested it.

"You there, Widow?"

"I copy, Hawkeye." She responded promptly. I could see where she was sitting, still in front of the café, while she waited. She was absently leafing through a magazine. We both sat there, silent, waiting for about an hour when Natasha suddenly stood up.

"What's up?" I asked through the comms, there was no reason why she should be getting up right now.

"Nothing. Just need to stand." She walked away from her table and down the alley, leaving my line of sight.

"Get back in there Widow." I ordered harshly. I wanted her where I could keep an eye on her.

"Here's the thing, Hawk, I may or may not have come up with a new plan while I was out today."

"YOU WHAT?!" I shouted through the comms.

"No need to shout." I could practically hear her smirking.

"Get back here. Now."

"We've been sitting here all night, and we've got nothing. We're not getting anywhere. We need an alternative."

"What are you planning."

"It's better if I don't say." Natasha said calmly and switched off her comms.

"Son of a bitch." I muttered under my breath, but I couldn't move. My job was to wait here for MaClaren. I sat in my perch, practically twitching for about 10 minutes before I had my eyes on Natasha again. When I did, she had just pushed open the curtains in MaClaren's office, and was in there chatting with him. I heard the comms switch on again and she spoke to MaClaren.

"There. Isn't that better?" She asked MaClaren, and she winked at me through the window.

"What the hell are you doing in there?" I asked tensely, and she ignored me. Natasha being right in the middle of their operation made my extremely nervous. That's when I noticed she had changed. She was now wearing a tight fitting black, backless dress that barely covered her ass, with black tights. She was still wearing the red heels she had on earlier. Her hair was pinned up in a sleek bun on the top of her head.

"So where's my usual girl?" I heard MaClaren ask.

"I'm sorry, but Candi's a little sick." She replied, innocently. "I hope you don't mind though." She cooed with a seductive smile. She sauntered over to where MaClaren was sitting in a desk chair. Her back was to me the whole time.

"Not at all, dearie. But, what can I call you?" He then set on hand on her waist and the other on the back of her thigh and pulled her forward until she was straddling his hips on the chair. He then hoisted her dress over her head so that she was in nothing but her bra, tights, and shoes.

"I'm Ginger." She told him sweetly as she pulled a pin out of her hair, letting her bun fall down. MaClaren's hands came up to her waist and down the elastic band of her tights. I felt my blood pressure rise as I watched this pathetic, disgusting lowlife put his hands all over Natasha. If she wasn't in the way, I would have shot him by now.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ginger." MaClaren replied smoothly before craning his neck to kiss her. Natasha moaned softly and deepened the kiss, bringing her hands up on either side of his face. His grip on her ass tightened and I clenched my jaw, fighting my instinct to go in there myself. Suddenly, Natasha pulled back, her hands still resting on his face.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. MaClaren." She smiled and then MaClaren was dead. Her hands moved too quickly for me to follow, and MaClaren's neck was snapped before I even knew what was going on.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while. School's been kind of a bitch lately. Anyways, I hope you're all doing well, and here's the next chapter!**

"There Hawk, nice and clean." She said as she slipped back into her dress and smoothed her hair.

"Get back to the hotel. Now." I demanded angrily as I packed my own things up and made my way out the building I was in.

"See you in ten." She replied exasperatedly

She returned to our hotel later than I did. The second she walked in I roughly shoved her up against the wall, pressing my body against hers and slammed the door behind her.

"What the hell was that?!" I barked furiously at her, our faces inches apart. She tried to push me back, but I pinned her hands at her sides and pressed one of my knees between her legs, preventing her from moving.

"Let. Me. Go." She spat harshly.

"Explain. Now." I wasn't going to let her go until she told me exactly what I wanted to hear. She sighed and relaxed a little and tossed her hair out of her face.

"The original plan sucked. So I came up with a new one. When I went out I found out that MaClaren has a girl from an escort service, sees her every week like clockwork. So, I talked to the girl and got her to call in sick for the day, leaving me an opening to go in her place. It was a lot cleaner and a lot easier than shooting him." She explained.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you never would have let me do it. You don't trust me _that _much. And, it's not your style." I eased up, still not letting her go, but not crushing her so tightly against me.

"What do you mean by 'it's not my style'?" I asked, slightly offended.

"You're a sniper." She said matter-of-factly. "You work from a distance, up in the rafters, out of sight. I work a little differently. I'm a more of an up-close-and-personal kind of person." She squirmed against me, trying to free herself from my grip. I let her go and stepped back, putting some space between us.

"I don't care how you 'work', as long as your _my _responsibility, you don't do _ever_ do that again. Understand?" I looked straight in her eyes, they were blank. She showed no emotion, something she was quite good at, and it prevented me from telling what she was actually thinking.

"I understand." She said flatly. She pushed off the wall and stalked past me, brushing into my shoulder as she did so.

"Natasha." I sighed.

"What?" She snapped.

"What's it gonna take to get you to trust me? I'm not your enemy. You can't pull shit like that on missions. It's not just your life that you're risking anymore, my ass is on the line here too."

"Pardon me if I have trouble trusting a killer who, apparently, has quite the reputation for disobeying orders." She replied tiredly.

"I'm the one who has in insubordination problem? Who's the one who decided to go off on her own today?" I all but yelled at her.

"I didn't disobey anything. I was told to kill MaClaren, and I did. If it were up to you, we'd still be sitting there!" She bit back hotly. I threw my hand up and a frustrated noise escaped my lips as I collapsed onto the bed. I propped my elbows on my knees and let my head hand down in my hands and closed my eyes. I sat there silently for a minute to calm my temper. Getting angry doesn't solve anything, I know. But, she was just so god damn irritating right now! I heard Natasha sigh softly from where she was standing; she was still by the door where I had left her. The floor creaked slightly as she moved; I felt the bed dip down next to me a moment later. She was a seated a solid eight inches away from me with her hands folded neatly in her lap and her head tilted to look at me.

"It won't happen again." She said tersely, as though with great difficulty. I lifted my head out of my hands to look up at her. Her jaw was tense, her lips pressed into a hard line, and her eyes were cold and hard. It seemed like, to her, giving an inch was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do. I let out a breath I didn't even know I had been holding, and looked at her gratefully.

"That's all I'm asking." I replied softly. "I know you work a little differently than I do, and that's why I brought you here. Believe me, I recognize the skills. You're good at what you do; just tell me before you do it." I finished.

"Fine." She said tightly before getting back up. She went off to go take a shower while I called Coulson to tell him the mission had been finished. We were to board a plane in two hours and head back for debriefing. I packed my things quickly, deciding to leave my tactical on, and waited to Natasha to come out. When she did, I told her what Coulson had said. She got dressed and packed her things quickly. I left her to straighten the room while I took out bags to a taxi and checked out. The trip back to base passed in much the same way that it did on the way here. It was tense, and thick, and uncomfortable.

We arrived back at base and debriefed as protocol dictates. After which we both went our separate ways without a word. I didn't see her at all for over a week, except for a passing glance in the hallways or mess hall. I only spoke to her again when we were given another mission. Our lives followed the same pattern for about a year. Go on a mission, return, debrief, go our separate ways, don't speak, new mission. Our relationship was grating, and difficult. She refuse to trust me, to give me anything personal no matter how hard I tried to get her to open up. She was to most distrusting, cold, reserved person I had ever met. I started to think she would never change, but that all changed during one particular mission.

We were sent to Moscow to eliminate a few key members of the Russian Red Room. When we were first handed the file Natasha tensed significantly. The coffee mug she was holding shattered in her iron-vice grip, spilling the hot beverage all over her.

"Fuck!" She exclaimed as she pushed back from the table abruptly, shaking the coffee off her hands and lap.

"Son of a bitch, Natasha. You okay?" I asked concernedly, standing up as well.

"I'm fine, Barton!" She snapped angrily, shooting me a glare that could make a grown man weep.

"Alright, alright. Take it easy." I put my hands up in surrender, and she seemed to calm down a bit.

"Are you sure you can do this mission, Romanoff?" Coulson asked. By now we all knew about her ties to the Red Room. It was who she worked for before coming to SHIELD, they had a particularly nasty reputation, and asking Natasha about her past was a sure-fire way to end up on the floor.

"I'll be fine, Coulson." She answered flatly.

"Alright, good. You two had better get going." I stood up as she stalked out. I jogged to catch up with her in the hallway.

"Natasha!" I called. She turned quickly to face me as I grabbed her arm. "You don't have to do this, you know." I told her. I knew what Natasha thought of her past, and it wasn't pretty.

"Yes, Barton, I do. I know more about these guys than anybody else. You need me. There's no way you can do this without me." She did have a point.

"Alright, I'll see you in an hour." I nodded as she turned and walked to her rooms. When we met up again I was more than surprised by what I saw. Natasha was in her tactical with her duffel bag thrown over her shoulder, and she was blonde. Not even like a dirty blonde, a bright, crisp, golden blonde. And, it looked damn good. I walked up behind her and began fiddling with the strands of her hair that rested in the small of her back, a calming habit I picked up while working with her on missions.

"Hey Blondie." I chuckled when she turned around to roll her eyes at me.

"Shut it, Barton." She jested, lightly elbowing me in the shoulders. "Do you think it looks alright?" She asked, biting her lip nervously.

"It looks great, Natasha. But, why'd you dye it?"

"It's a little less distinctive than my red. It'll throw the Red Room off a little; at least it might take them a few seconds longer to recognize me." She replied flatly.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked seriously. Putting Natasha anywhere near her past could be a major setback for her.

"I'll be fine. I can handle myself." She replied angrily, raising her arms threateningly. I stepped back to give her some space.

"Okay, okay. I just want to make sure everything's going to go as planned."

And, it did. For the most part. We completed the actual combat portion of the mission without a hitch, which was unusual. We had planned everything down to a 'T' and it paid off. There was only one minor problem: Natasha.

The first night we were there, she didn't sleep at all. I tried to stay up with her, but eventually my jet-lag caught up with me and I passed out on the couch. The next night I managed to get her to sleep, saying if she didn't I was sending her right back to base. I was woken up at around two by a panicked Natasha shaking my shoulders.

"Wake up, Clint!" Clint? Natasha _never_ called me by my first name. I bolted upright and grabbed her upper arms. She responded by gripping both my forearms tightly.

"What's happening?" I demanded, panicking myself.

"Nothing, Clint." She said softly, looking down. I was sitting up in my bed and Natasha was kneeling next to me, having vacated her own bed; her whole body was shaking. She held onto my arms so tightly I was beginning to lose circulation. Her breath came in short, ragged pants.

"Tasha?" I whispered soothingly. I knew she hated when I shortened her name, but sometimes I couldn't stop myself from doing so. "What's wrong?" I could hear the worry in my voice, and there was no doubt she could too.

"I'm f-fine." She managed to choke out after a minute.

"Liar." She laughed at that, but sounded sarcastic and bitter. She relaxed a little though. I moved my hands from her arms to her shoulder blades, disengaging her death grip, and pulled her closer to me so that her head was resting on my shoulder. She moved her hands from my arms to grip my shirt with equal strength. I held her there tightly, rubbing soothing circles on her back and talking until she stopped shaking. I talked about a lot of things, though none of it was really important. Like why I thought dogs were better than cats, the best kind of weather, my favorite books, and I talked about hot chocolate at great length at one point. I would occasionally pose a question and she would not or shake her head, and she chuckled at my musings a few times. It was just about five when she finally pulled away from me.


	8. HIATUS

Hey everybody! I've hit a real rut in this story, so I've decided to put it on hiatus for now. I'm thinking about scrapping the whole thing all together, but I'm not sure. Regardless, I am starting another ClintxNatasha story. Hopefully I'll have better creative luck with it.


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